Author's Note: This happens during chapters seven and eight of Witness.
Diary of a Protected Witness Part 4
Getting the Message
There's nothing like receiving an hour-long lecture from a lawyer to brighten your day.
Or maybe it was night--I guess it was the wee small hours of the morning when Quatre graciously coerced me into accepting a ride home and then proceeded to deliver a lengthy dissertation on why I should consider changing my mind and telling the cops I'd seen Khushrenada pull the trigger.
I proceeded to counter his arguments with my own.
He said the truth needed to be told--that a murderer couldn't be allowed to get away with it.
I said he'd already gotten away with it, or the cops would've been knocking at his door instead of mine.
He pointed out how vulnerable I'd be out on my own if Khushrenada figured out I'd been in that penthouse.
I pointed out how vulnerable I'd be locked up in police custody if he figured out I'd been in that penthouse. Zechs had always said his boss kept plenty of cops on the payroll--cops who'd be happy to take me out for him at a moment's notice.
Quatre then went on at even greater length about how easy it would be for the cops to pin the crime on me, if they so chose.
I--didn't have a good answer for that one. He was right. But I was tired and angry and just not up to listening to the voice of reason--no matter how prettily it was packaged.
Like I said, he was easy on the eyes.
So anyhow, he was nice enough to drop me off at Trowa's place once the sermon ended.
He did manage to get me to promise to come to his office the next day, so he could explain the pros and cons again, and get me to make a formal statement, just to cover my ass. And then he drove off in his cute little BMW convertible, and I watched an unmarked police car slide into a parking spot a block down the street.
Suckers.
I decided to take a little stroll around the neighborhood--ditching the loser cops within the first half hour--before sneaking into Trowa's apartment building via the fire escape, and letting myself into his place with my lock pick.
When he got home just after dawn, I was still wide awake--too tense to sleep, especially when it was the time I normally was at work.
He didn't seem surprised to see me, either.
"I take it your plan to skip town fell through."
Ya gotta love his dry sense of humor--really.
"Cops showed up at Sanc and dragged me downtown," I admitted.
"They came to The Jungle first. Noin must've told 'em where you were working. God knows I didn't."
I frowned. "They grilled you too?"
"Yeah. I told 'em we used to be fuck buddies and that you were with Zechs now. That's all."
I shared a wan smile with him. "We were a lot more than that--but it's good you didn't tell them. You don't need to be part of this mess."
Those deep green eyes turned a worried look towards me. "Jesus, Duo. How much trouble are you in? Did they accuse you of killing Zechs?"
"Yes and no. They seemed to have figured out I was a witness, rather than the perp. But they were talkin' about booking me, if I didn't cooperate."
"Did you?"
I gave a skeptical snort. "Me? Give the cops the time of day? Shit, Tro', you know me better than that." I leaned on the counter, watching him take a beer out of his fridge.
He opened it and took a swig, before passing it to me. "So--how come you're out?"
"My public defender got 'em to cut me loose...speakin' of which, I've gotta go see him later in the afternoon. Any chance you could drive me over there? My bike's still parked at Sanc."
"Sure. I'm not working until after nine."
We shared a beer, stripped down and went to bed. Not like it's the first time I ever shared a bed with Trowa. He was the guy who taught me how to really enjoy sex for the first time ever.
While Solo an' I played around and experimented, we'd never gone further than hand jobs or blow jobs. And after he died, while I was pretty promiscuous, I never bottomed for anyone--and the whole point of sex was just about having a good time and finding a little release now an' then.
And then I met Trowa.
I'd gone to the circus as a chaperone for the orphanage--and don't even ask how Father Maxwell conned me into that. I'm still not sure. I just sort of bumped into him on the street one day, kind of strung out and half-starving, and he invited me back to the old homestead for a meal.
Next thing I knew, I was playing ball with a bunch of scrawny little kids on weekends, and then going along on field trips as a chaperone.
Me. A chaperone.
Fuckin' insane, huh?
But there it was. And that's how I first saw Trowa, working in the ring with the lions--getting them to jump through rings of fire, with just this little whip-thing in his hand, and a really fierce look in his eyes.
He was hotter than Hell. All lean, supple muscle and nerves of steel.
I snuck backstage to get a closer look. I told him I wanted to see the big cats--but really, it was him.
Honestly, I don't think he was fooled by my lame excuse. But he humored me--introduced me to the lions and leopards--and told me to come back again soon.
So I did.
I went back just about every weekend after that. It didn't take him long to figure out what I really wanted.
We got to be a regular thing, Tro' and me. And to tell the truth, he was really good for me. He made me give up the drugs--except a little weed now an' then--and he taught me a few marketable skills around the circus.
And he taught me how to really enjoy sex.
Not that it hadn't been okay before. But he taught me how to really enjoy it. We had a great time, the two of us. I learned positions I never knew existed--top, bottom, sixty-nine--you name it an' we tried it. Repeatedly. He had a body that wouldn't quit, stamina that was just phenomenal, and a willingness to experiment that let us freakin' enjoy the hell out of each other.
And when I was thinking about getting a job and trying to be more than a street punk and thief, Trowa taught me exotic dancing and got me into The Jungle to meet Ms. Noin.
Next thing I knew, I was one of the most popular strippers in the club--next to Trowa, that is. And when we worked as a pair--they just went wild over us. Shinigami and Nanashi--the Big Cats. We were practically celebrities.
I'd never had money before--and I have to admit, it kind of went to my head for awhile, and I got back into drugs in a big way. But once again, Trowa was there to talk me back onto the straight and narrow.
He was sneaky about it, too. I'd seen a sleek, black motorcycle I was just about drooling over, and he pointed out that if I gave up the drugs, I could afford payments on a bike like that one. Damned if he wasn't right about that.
Now, here's the weird thing about me and Tro'. For all that we enjoyed the hell out of each other's bodies--we never ended up in love. I guess it was really strong "like?" I dunno.
I mean, I think I was kind of gun shy about the term "love." I'd thought I had it with Solo, and he'd gone and dumped me for some pretty little uptown girl. And then he'd ended up dead a few months later.
I think what I felt for Trowa might've been love--only I wasn't about to admit it. And we kind of made a deal at the start that neither of us was looking for anything exclusive or binding.
There were times I thought about asking if we could change that deal. But I never got up the nerve.
Hell--maybe Trowa felt the same way. But we both kept pretending there was something more out there somewhere. And then I met Zechs, and I started to realize what the "more" was.
While I was comfortable with Trowa, and we were compatible--neither one of us ever really lost control. We didn't make each other crazy with lust or desperate for one another's touch. It was always pleasurable and fun and really, really hot--without being all-consuming.
Zechs--he was the very definition of "all-consuming." There was no way he'd settle for less than everything. And to my surprise, I found I wanted to give it to him. I wanted to give myself to him.
Can you see why the desire to kill Treize Khushrenada was quickly becoming an obsession for me?
Anyhow, to get back to the story, Tro' and I went to bed. And we didn't have sex or anything. But it felt pretty good to curl up against him and feel the comfort of a familiar touch. He was still the best friend I'd ever had, bar none.
Which is why, when we were leaving Quatre's office that afternoon and his car blew up, I finally realized I had to do something to protect my loved ones from Khushrenada.
OWARI
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